Mind Games
by Aggie Escott
Summary: It is the day Hotch is due back at work. But it seems he's done a runner! Torture and angst. Please review.
1. New Game

**Mind Games  
**Chapter 1  
New Game

"_**With true friendship comes true understanding" ANON**_

The man looked into the mirror at the unfamiliar face looking back at him. Black hair a little too long, across his forehead; dark eyes with heavy expressive brows; a weeks worth of beard growth. He rubbed at it. It didn't feel right.

Who was he? What was happening? His hand went to the metal ring around his neck – the source of discipline – and he pulled at it uselessly.

Under the ring, that hung loosely on his collar bone, was a purple blistered burn. That he could remember. Obedience was required, otherwise the ring would discipline him. He leaned forwards and looked into the eyes. The mirror, polished metal, unbreakable, was hazy, and slightly distorted.

'Who are you?' he whispered, resting his hands clenched into fists on each side of his reflection. Then he turned and looked into the lens of the ever present camera.

'Who am I?' he shouted. 'What do you want me for? Why the hell are you doing this?'

He turned back to the mirror and banged his fists against the metal.

'Let me....' His sentence was cut off mid stream by a scream as the ring around his neck administered the discipline, and the shock threw the man across the room, smacking him against the opposite wall. When the shock subsided, the voice told him, once again, that complete obedience was required, and violence would not be tolerated. The man crawled painfully back to his bed where he collapsed on the rough blanket and curled up in a protective ball.

-0-0-0-

TWO WEEKS EARLIER

Hotch walked with a stick some of the time. The gunshot to his foot had given him problems; an infection that would not clear up. But now he had been cleared for work, he walked around the house without it. He was planning to leave it behind tomorrow when he went back to work. He had not taken the stick to the medical, and had managed quite well.

He still had problems with his neck. If he moved it too quickly it would crack and that hurt like hell. There were scars behind his ear where the slip knot had tightened, and he had been hung. It didn't hurt most of the time. He didn't consider it to be a problem.

He had spoken to Dave earlier in the day and got up to date on the latest case. In fact, Dave had said they were coming to the end of the case they were on, so Hotch would be able to lead the team on the next case. He also said that his office was still his. Dave, although acting chief, had not moved offices.

'I knew you'd be coming back.' he said. 'It will always be your office.'

Hotch smiled. It was something about the team. They were loyal, and that meant a lot to him, sticking by him when he was ill and blinded, never giving up on him.

Especially Reid. Dear kind loyal Reid, who was willing to sacrifice his career for him. Few men could boast friends like that.

He picked up the phone and called him.

'I'm back at work in the morning. Care to come over and celebrate with Dave and me this evening?'

Reid thanked him but declined the invitation. Hotch smiled. He was probably up to a good bit in his graphic novel he was reading.

He checked the time. Dave was due over for a drink with him in an hour. He had time to get his suit ready for the morning – a new one to mark the occasion – and press the new white shirt he had bought. He was going to buy a new tie but all the ones in the shop had been a little too showy for his conservative taste, and he got out his blue striped one instead, to go with his navy suit.

He hung the suit on the back of the bathroom door, ready to put on in the morning after his shower, together with the shirt and tie.

He looked at the suit again. Maybe navy blue was a bit flamboyant for him. He took it down and held it against himself in front of the mirror, wishing he'd bought the dark grey one.

Ah well, he supposed no one would notice anyway!

He hung it back up, just as the doorbell rang. Rossi was early.

-0-0-0-

He and Dave spent a pleasant evening drinking cold beer and chatting about old cases. Hotch supposed that Dave was probably the best friend he had. Hotch found socialising difficult and stressful, Dave found it smooth and easy, and Dave's confidence in company rubbed off on him, and helped Hotch to be more confident himself. It was strange, he could talk to a bunch of strangers about a serial killer, but making small talk was quite beyond him.

But with Dave his defences came down, and by the end of the evening, Hotch was laughing freely at some of the things that happened in their times together.

'I must go. Aaron.' Dave laughed. 'I have a report to write tonight if it is to be on your desk in the morning. You aren't even back yet and you've got me burning the midnight oil!'

Hotch grinned. 'On my desk by six thirty!' he said in mock seriousness. 'And no typos!'

Dave called a taxi, and a few minutes later, Hotch walked to the door with Dave. 'I'll be in at six in the morning. I want to look at the case.'

'The evidence board is still up, Aaron. It was straight forward, but had some interesting aspects.' Dave said, getting into the cab. 'See you tomorrow.'

Hotch waved his friend off, and went back inside. The house suddenly felt empty and unfriendly. Hotch sighed and went upstairs to get ready for bed.

-0-0-0-

Hotch was soon asleep. He didn't hear the sound of breaking glass as someone broke into the utility room, and crept through the kitchen into the hall. Two more men followed him, and carefully they climbed the stairs to where Hotch was sleeping. The man in front took a small bottle from his pocket and poured the contents onto a cloth. Hotch's bedroom door was slightly open, and they slowly surrounded him as he slept. At a prearranged signal, two of the men grabbed Hotch's arms while the third pressed the chloroform against his mouth and nose.

Hotch's eyes snapped open, and he fought the men that were holding him down, but it only took seconds to subdue him, and he passed out.

'Get his suitcase and pack it.' one man said. 'Take his suits and some casual clothes. He's going on holiday.'

'I'll get his bathroom stuff.' another said.

'While you're doing that, I'll get his gun out of the safe, and then I'll get our friend here down to the van.'

He picked up Hotch's limp form and carried him over his shoulder down stairs to the van parked in his drive. He opened the back and rolled him into the van. Using Hotch's own handcuffs, he cuffed his wrist to the frame of the van, and closed and locked the door. The other two followed with the suit case, which was thrown into the back of the van. They went back in and made the bed again, and cleared up the glass. Then they set the alarm, locked up the house, and drove off into the night.

-0-0-0-

Dave was surprised the next morning to see Hotch's office unoccupied when he arrived to work. He glanced at his watch. Six fifteen. No one else was in yet. Well, maybe it was a bit early. But when seven o'clock came around, and Prentiss arrived, and still Aaron hadn't turned up, Dave got a bit worried.

Not that he ought to get worried. Aaron didn't have to be there until eight thirty. But still.....

He took the impeccably typed report to Hotch's office and put it on his desk.

Then he went back to his own office and called Hotch's land line.

There was no reply, and Dave was pleased. That meant he was on his way to work. Boy was he going to get some stick!

At seven thirty, Morgan and Reid came in together, followed a short time later by JJ and Garcia.

But still no Hotch.

Now Dave was more than a little worried. He called Hotch's cell, only to hear it ring and ring.

'Pick up, Aaron.' Dave said under his breath.

But it carried on ringing, then clicked to answer phone.

'No Hotch yet?' Morgan said, poking his head around Dave's door.

'No.' Dave said distractedly. 'Ask Penelope if there have been any RTA's between here and Aaron's. He could have been held up.'

But not for two hours.....

Garcia was back to him in seconds.

'All roads in and out of Quantico are clear.' she said. 'There's nothing to hold up traffic.'

'Ok, that's it. I'm going over to Hotch's to see if he's alright. He could be sick or something.' Dave said. 'Reid, with me please.'

They drove in silence to through the streets to Hotch's house. Dave drew into the drive and parked next to Aaron's car. So he was still home then.

'He must be sick.' Reid said, puzzled. Why hadn't he called to let them know?

Dave rang the bell, as he had done twelve hours previously. There was no answer. Reid found the key that Hotch had hidden in the garden, and he unlocked the door. Dave deactivated the alarm, and they entered Hotch's hall.

'Aaron!' Dave called. 'Aaron, where are you?' He unholstered his side arm, and Reid followed suit.

'I'll check upstairs, you do down here.'

Reid opened the kitchen door, and with his gun straight ahead of him, he checked the room. Nothing was out of place, but he could see through the open utility room door that there was a broken pane of glass. He checked the floor in front of the window, but there was no glass on the floor.

He went out and checked the remainder of the downstairs, but there was no sign of Hotch, and there was nothing out of place.

Dave cleared the upstairs rooms one at a time, but as with the lower floor, there didn't appear to be anything wrong.

'Reid, what do you make of this?'

Reid joined Dave in Hotch's bedroom.

'The bed hasn't been slept in.' Reid said.

'No, but look at this?' Dave was standing in front of the open wardrobe. It was empty. There was a space on the top shelf where his suitcase was kept.

'I'll check the bathroom.' Reid said. Sure enough, his razor and toiletries were gone.

'It's as if he's gone on holiday!' Reid said. 'But there's a suit hanging on the bathroom door.'

'He's not gone away.' Dave said. 'I was here yesterday evening. He was looking forward to being back at work.'

'The suit in the bathroom is new. If he was going to go away, he'd surely take the new suit with him.'

Dave looked around the room. 'I believe this is a crime scene.' he said. 'But we'd have a hard time proving it. They will say he just panicked and ran from having to come back to work. Call the others, and we'll go over this place with a fine tooth comb, and figure out what has happened.

Reid was on the phone to Emily and Morgan. He and Dave went downstairs into the garden and waited for the others.

-0-0-0-

'Hotch isn't here.' Reid told them. 'It looks as if he's done a runner.'

'But I was with him yesterday evening, and he was fine then.' Dave said. 'I don't believe he's run. This house is a crime scene. I don't believe he has gone anywhere willingly. I believe something more sinister has happened, and we owe it to him to find out what.'


	2. Game On

**Mind Games  
**Chapter 2  
Game On

"_**Pain is temporary. It may last a minute, or an hour, or a day, or a year, but eventually it will subside and something else will take its place. If I quit, however, it lasts forever." – Lance Armstrong**_

Hotch woke in the back of the van. The chloroform had made him feel sick, and he had a head ache. He tugged uselessly at the cuffs holding him. He checked over his body. As far as he could tell, they hadn't hit him.

'Hey! Where are you taking me?' he shouted. 'Who are you?'

The van was driving erratically over rough terrain; Hotch thought that they were probably driving through the forest, along fire tracks. He managed to sit up and lean against the doors.

The van was blacked out; he couldn't see out at all, and so had no idea how long he'd been out. He closed his eyes to try to minimise the headache, but that made it worse, and he suddenly was sick on the floor of the van. He wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his pyjama jacket and tried to find a comfortable position. He thought he was alone in the van. He could remember three men. They would all be up front.

Hotch had never suffered from motion sickness before, but in the darkness, being thrown about the back of the van, and probably also due to the chloroform, by the time the van stopped, he was feeling quite ill.

The van doors opened, and someone shone a flash light into the back of the van. He blinked in the beam of the torch as it was shone directly into his eyes.

'Who are you?' he said. He couldn't see who was shining the torch, but he felt the van move as someone climbed in beside him.

'My friend outside has your gun trained on you, so don't try to run, or we kill you.' the man growled. Aaron allowed the man to uncuff him, and two men held him by the upper arms as he was pulled from the van. He stood in straight and defiant front of the man with the flash light, and asked the question again.

'Who are you? What do you want?'

His answer was a punch in the stomach. The two men holding him let go, and he fell to his knees, doubled up.

A voice said, 'That was stupid. We don't want him damaged.'

Hotch coughed and threw up again, as he tried to catch his breath. He was hauled to his feet and he staggered forwards in front of the gun, which was pressed into the back of his neck, towards a concrete building. He thought momentarily of trying to overpower the man with the gun, but he heard a bullet hit the chamber, and realised they meant what they said, and would kill him if he tried to escape. He had his wits and strength, but they had the gun.

It was still night, and Aaron could make little of the building that he was being propelled towards. He tried to get a sense of where he was, but the terrain was unfamiliar.

'Bring the suit case, and burn it here.' a voice said.

'Why have you....?'

'Shut up!'

He was pulled down a flight of concrete steps just inside the building and into a windowless cellar. The lighting was bright, and Hotch screwed his eyes up against the glare. He tried to think of the significance of the suitcase, but before he could think, he was pushed into a room where a man sat behind a shabby desk.

'You don't know us.' the man said, 'but we have been watching you now for some time. You are exactly what we want to test our device.' He turned to the two men who had brought him this far. 'Ok, hold him.'

Strong arms grabbed Aaron's upper arms. He struggled, but he knew it was pointless. There was no where to run, and his opponents were armed.

The man came round from behind the desk. In his hand he carried two halves of a metal ring of about nine inches in diameter. He fastened the ring around Hotch's neck as he fought to keep it off. Hotch glared at him as the ring snapped together.

'Ok, you can let him go now.'

The hands that were holding him let go, and Hotch stepped towards his aggressor. He pulled at the ring.

'What the hell is this?' he shouted. 'Who are you?'

The man calmly stepped behind his desk and picked up what looked like a remote control. He pointed it at Aaron.

'Let me show you.' he smiled, and pressed one of the buttons.

Hotch went rigid with shock and every pain receptor in his body caught fire. He tried not to scream, but the sound was torn from his throat, and he fell to the floor, crying out in agony.

The torture stopped as quickly as it started, and left Aaron lying on the floor, exhausted.

'Let me tell you the rules.' the man with the control device said. 'You are to obey every command and rule you are given. Disobedience will be punished, obedience will be rewarded. Make no mistake, it could kill you. We don't know how much the human body can take. That is why we chose you. You are strong, wilful, and stubborn. If we can break you, we can break anyone.' He smiled as Hotch turned onto his hands and knees and attempted to get up.

'You will not break me.' Aaron said

'Oh but we will, Agent Hotchner. That was a low setting. So far, no animal has survived the high setting. You are privileged. You are the first man to try it out. Remember – absolute obedience, or this happens.'

He pressed the button again and Hotch collapsed at his feet, twisting and convulsing until the pain became too much and he fainted.

-0-0-0-

Dave spoke to a CSI who owed him a favour.

'We need a house processed as a crime scene.' he said. 'Off the books, unofficial, the results straight back to me.'

'I'll do it for you. I'm off in two hours, I'll come by then.' he answered. 'Whose house is it?'

'It's Agent Hotchner's.' Dave answered. 'We think something has gone down here, but the evidence points to something less sinister. We believe the evidence has been staged.'

'I'll see you in two hours, Rossi. What's the address?'

Dave gave him Hotch's address, and cut the connection.

'CSI will be here in two hours. In the meantime, let's see what we can find.'

Reid and Morgan took the front yard. Reid shone his torch onto the ground. 'There was another vehicle parked here.' he said. 'If Hotch has been abducted, this was the vehicle that took him.'

'Let's knock on some doors, kiddo, see what the neighbours saw.' Morgan glanced over the road to where a curtain was twitching. 'We can start over there.'

They crossed the road into the sun, weak and cool in the early morning. Morgan knocked on the door.

The door was answered almost before the sound of the knock died away. The woman had been watching them. She smiled at the two agents. Someone wanted information. She was sure that she could give it. She had always wanted to have her five minutes of fame.

Morgan and Reid showed their FBI badges. 'I am Agent Morgan, this is Agent Reid from the FBI. We are wondering if you saw anything going on at the house over the road last night.'

'Oh Mr. Hotchner's house? Yes I did actually.' she said enthusiastically. 'I saw a van in the drive way. Three men got out, and then a little while later, they came back to the van, with a suit case. One of the men was carrying something. I couldn't see them too well. Mr Hotchner's front yard is dark.'

'I don't suppose you got the licence plate?' Morgan asked.

She shook her head. She said she would not recognise the men again, but she would know the van. They chatted some more with the woman, and invited her to come back to the BAU to look at some pictures of vans, to see if they could narrow it down.

When Danny, Dave's friend from the CSU arrived, Dave took him into the house.

'We think Hotchner was abducted from here last night, and the scene staged to make it look as if he left of his own accord. I do not believe that he would have done, and we need you to help us prove it.'

'I'll do what I can.' Danny answered, opening his case and retrieving a squirrel fingerprint brush. He dusted the door handle and the banister, and lifted a number of prints, all of which could be Aaron's. Then he dusted the wardrobe, and that was where he located the best prints. He lifted them, and stored them in his box.

'I'll run these through AFIS as soon as I get in tomorrow. I'll get in early and start before work.' he said. 'I'll check the bed room for trace.'

There were some fibres in the bed, which he took samples of, but really, apart from the prints, there was nothing to back up Dave's theory that Hotch hadn't left in the night, suddenly panicking about returning to work. Dave directed Danny to the broken window, but although there was a little piece of glass on the floor inside the house, it could have been there for days.

'It was definitely broken from the outside, but we couldn't prove it was done last night.' he said. Danny checked the outside of the house, but the ground didn't give up any more information, other than the tyre tracks that Reid had already seen.

As Danny left, and Dave left the house, locking the door behind him, Morgan came over the road with the woman from number three seven seven.

'This is Mrs Hinchley.' Reid said. 'She saw a van In Hotch's drive last night and may be able to identify the make if we show her some photo's'

They took Mrs Hinchley back to the BAU. She was their only lead, and their best hope so far.

-0-0-0-

Aaron woke up on the cold floor of a bare hospital ward. He was still wearing his pyjamas, but the jacket was undone. Hotch moved his hands to his neck. The ring was still there. His body was shaking, he wasn't sure if it was the cold, or shock that was causing it. There was a bed in the room, and he pulled himself up onto it and laid down on it with some relief. From his position on the bed, he looked around the room.

There were no windows. There was a bright diffused light coming from somewhere, but he couldn't identify the source. The walls were painted white, and the light glared and hurt his eyes. There was no other furniture apart from the bed, and there were two doors. One was closed. This presumably was the way out. The other was open, and led into a small bathroom.

Hotch got off the bed and went into the bathroom. The camera followed his movements. There was a toilet and a basin, but nothing else. He tried the taps, and there was cold water. He cupped his hands and took a drink. He hadn't realised how thirsty he was until he saw the water running.. There was a metal mirror on the wall. He went close to it and examined the ring around his neck. He tested it carefully to see if it could be removed, but he didn't think it could. He looked up, to see a camera also in the bathroom. He stared defiantly at it.

'Why have you brought me here?' he shouted.

'What is your name?' a voice said.

'You damn well know my name. I am Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner of the F.......'

His sentence ended in a scream as the ring was activated. Aaron fell back on the floor and clawed at his neck as his pain receptors were once again on fire.

Over his screams, a voice boomed, 'You have no name. You are nothing.'

At last the agony passed. Hotch lay still on the bathroom floor, panting for breath, tears of pain wetting his face.

_You have no name..... You are nothing......._

Now he knew what they were doing to him. Now he knew, he could fight it.


	3. Confusion

**Mind Games  
**Chapter 3  
Confusion

"_**Whoever stands by a just cause cannot possibly be called a **__**terrorist**__**" – Yasser Arafat**_

There was nothing to indicate that Hotch had left of his own accord other than Dave's gut. Hr knew that Aaron wouldn't run from responsibility. He called Haley's sister to ask if she had heard from him and she hadn't. There's no way that Aaron would have left without saying goodbye to Jack. He paced his office, troubled. He picked up his phone and called Reid up. Reid was there in seconds, only too glad to be able to say what he thought about Hotch's disappearance.

'He had his suit hanging on the bathroom door all ready. Why do that if he was leaving?'

'I know, Reid. You don't have to convince me. I can't get an investigation opened though. The kidnappers were very good at leaving false clues.' Dave said. 'If I didn't know Hotch better, I might believe them.' He paused, then, 'Did you have any luck with Mrs Hinchley?'

'No not really. Morgan is still with her, but apart from it being a white van, she really can't tell us much.'

'So it's down to us then.' he sighed. 'Call the others up, please, and let's see what we have got.'

-0-0-0-

Hotch examined the ring in the bathroom mirror. It just looked like a metal ring; smooth and without any obvious join. He pulled at to test its strength, all the time aware that it could be activated. His body ached and his skin hurt to touch where the nerve endings had been fired, but evidently he was allowed to do this, because there was no pain.

They were trying to brain wash him. This was new technology, at least to the FBI. They were usually up to date with anything that could be used as interrogation techniques, and he had not heard of this. He wondered whether this was a terrorist campaign, or his own side attacking him. He knew they tested new technology on inmates at Gitmo. They had said why they chose him as the test subject, but they didn't reckon on his tenacity. He would not be brain washed.

There didn't seem to be any way to remove the device. He risked an attack, and put his hands between the ring and his throat, and pulled as hard as he could. The ring seemed to give slightly, but showed no sign of loosening.

His arms dropped to his side. This was not the way to combat it. The ring would not come off without bolt cutters, so he was going to have to find some other way to beat it. As he wandered back to his bed, a voice filled the room.

'Now you know that you cannot remove the device', the voice said, 'we will get to work. What is your name?'

'You know my name.' Aaron replied.

The ring was instantly activated and Hotch fell to the floor, writhing in agony, he bit down on his tongue, and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. The pain stopped and he was left panting for breath on the floor. His eyes burned in defiance. Hurting him would not work.

'Let's try that again, shall we? Remember, obedience is rewarded. You must be feeling hungry by now. So what is your name?'

'Supervisory spec.......' was all he said before the thing around his neck sent daggers of pain to every part of his body. This time they let it run until he passed out.

-0-0-0-

'There had to be at least two men', Prentiss said, 'to overpower Hotch. He did not put up much of a fight.'

'Could be they drugged him.' Morgan said. 'The bed linen is in the lab being tested. I'll ask them to do a tox screen on anything they find.'

'They were highly organised.' Dave said. 'They cleared up the glass and took it with them to make out that the window had been broken before.'

'There were no fingerprints, also points to them being organised.' Reid said. 'And taking a suitcase too.'

'The only mistake seems to be them leaving the suit on the bathroom door and allowing Mrs Hinchley to see the van.' Dave sighed. 'So we have a group of probably at least three men, highly organised, would have been watching him for sometime – that alone shows skill, shadowing Hotch without him noticing would not be easy.'

'They are probably in their twenties, to overcome someone as powerful as Hotch.' said Prentiss.

'But why Hotch?' Dave said. 'There are much easier people to abduct. It has to be something to do with his position at the BAU. There has been no ransom demand, no one has tried to inject himself into the investigation, no contact with the media. They needed him for something. Something that no one else would do for.'

'Terrorism?' Reid said thoughtfully. 'Maybe they want FBI information.'

'If that is the case, we don't have much time.' Morgan said. 'If they are torturing him for information.'

'Because he won't give it.' Dave said. 'He would die first.'

-0-0-0-

Hotch woke up on the floor of his room where he had fallen. He tried to move, and cried out in pain as he attempted to move his limbs. He forced himself onto his front and crawled to the bed, but he didn't have the strength to climb up onto it. He rolled onto his back.

'I don't understand!' he cried out. 'What answer did you want?'

He tried to look defiant, but his eyes hurt in the glare of the bright light. He put an arm across his eyes to shield them, and to cover the tears that had gathered in their corners. The glare of the light was making his eyes water, and the memory of the pain. But it could be seen as a weakness. He was still for a few minutes to gather his strength, then tried again to climb onto the bed. This time he managed it, and it hurt less to lie there than on the floor. He sat up and shouted at the camera.

'What was the right answer?'

He started to massage his legs, to try to stop them being so sensitive, but he had to stop as the pain receptors were susceptible to the touch, and it hurt.

He turned onto his side facing away from the camera, and scrunched up the thin pillow in front of his face to try to block out the light. The repeated attacks had left him shattered and he needed to sleep, but he didn't think he would be allowed to.

And he was right. The questions started again.

'Who is Haley?' was the first thing they asked. Aaron thought for a moment.

'She was my wife.' He waited for the pain to start, but evidently it was the right answer.

'Who is Jack?'

'Don't you touch my son!' Hotch yelled, getting off the bed and facing the camera. Then the pain. It felt like a higher level this time. It threw him off his feet and onto his back. A scream was torn from his throat and his body was consumed by fire as his nerve endings sent pain signals to his brain. He fought to stay conscious, and as the pain subsided, he attempted to get to his feet. He had to stay strong. He had to defy these people.

'When are you going to show yourselves?' he said. His voice was shaky and guttural as he tried to speak. 'Show me your faces!'

'You do not need to see our faces.' the answer came back. 'Who are you?'

'I am Aaron hotchn.....'

Again the ring was activated. This time he tried to pull it from his neck, but his fingers formed fists and he couldn't grip the ring.

'Aaron Hotchner!' he screamed as the pain went on. 'My name is Aaron Hotchner!'

-0-0-0-

'We found traces of chloroform on the pillow.' the tech said. Morgan grimaced.

'No wonder they could take him so easily.' he said. 'They chloroformed him in his sleep. He probably didn't even see them.'

He told the others the latest.

'Primitive but it works. Even Aaron wouldn't be able to fight that.' Dave said. 'So what have we got?'

'Organised, possibly terrorist connections, at least two strong men, and a white van. That's about it' Reid said.

Dave looked worried. 'If this is terrorist connected, and they are trying to get secrets out of Hotch, we really need to alert the CTU.'

'But it's all speculative. We can't even get a crime scene set up. He's been put down as AWOL.'

Dave nodded. 'Yes I know. This is going to have to be up to us to unravel.'

'If they wanted to get into the Federal computers, they would have taken Garcia.' Reid said. 'She would be easier to break than Hotch.'

'See if you can figure out what unique information Hotch has.' Dave said. 'That might be a step to discovering who took him.'

Prentiss, Reid and Morgan nodded and left Dave's office.

Dave resumed pacing and thinking.

_Why did they take you, Aaron? Why you?'_

-0-0-0-

Hotch felt wetness on the right side of his neck. He touched it with the back of his hand, and it came away bloody. He had a weakness in his ear ever since the car bomb in New York. It was bleeding again. He curled up on the bed in the foetal position, his arms crossed across his chest and his legs drawn up. His body was trembling, and his breathing had become painful and difficult. His throat hurt with screaming, and he was exhausted. But they wouldn't let him sleep. He lay still, waiting for them to start asking him things again.

He needed a drink. He slid off the bed onto the cold floor and crawled to the bathroom. Pulling himself up to the basin, he turned on the tap.

There was no water. He turned to the camera.

'I need some water.' he said huskily.

'You have to earn your rewards.' the voice said. 'Let's give you a chance. What is your name?'

_Oh god, please, not again....._

'Agent Aar............'

He fell back on the concrete floor as the pain kicked in again. His head cracked on the floor, but he hardly felt it. He badly needed a drink, and didn't know what answer was needed. The pain subsided again, and he felt the back of his head. Yes, the skin was broken, and already there was a pool of blood.

Without getting up, he turned to the camera.

'Please....' he gasped. 'I need a drink.'

'Who are you?'

'I don't know the answer!' he cried. 'I don't know what you want me to say!'

'I want to know your name.'

'You know my name!' Hotch said in desperation. 'I've told you my name.'

'Say your name.' the voice ordered.

'Agent Aar......... oh god no!'

And the ring was activated. It was on a low setting, but it stayed on until Aaron fainted. As he lay on the floor unmoving, the door into his room opened, and two men entered. Quickly and efficiently, they unbolted the bed from the floor and carried it out of the room, locking the door behind them. When Hotch woke up an unknown time later, shivering and stiff, the bed had gone. Hotch crawled to the corner of the room under the camera, hoping he would be out of their line of sight. He closed his eyes to try to sleep, but the voice started again.

'Now you see we have removed the bed from the room. This is punishment. Your behaviour cannot be rewarded, so you get no water. Disobedience will not be tolerated.'

'I don't know what you want!' Hotch shouted. 'What do you want?'

'We want your name.'

'I've told you my name, damn it! You know my name!'

'What is your name?'

'I don't know what you want! I am Aaron Hotchner, FB.........'

Hotch's body was once again racked with pain. He convulsed on the floor leaving smears of blood. He bit down hard on his tongue again and he shook and arched his back in agony until he passed out.


	4. Phase Two

**Mind Games  
**Chapter 4  
Phase Two

"_**You can chain me, you can **__**torture**__** me, you can even destroy this body, but you will never imprison my mind.**__**" – Mahatma Gandhi**_

The man leaned on the garden wall and chatted to Haley's sister. Jack was playing on his trike on the path outside.

'He's a fine boy.' the man said.

'He's my late sister's boy.' she said. 'His father doesn't have time for him.'

'A foolish man.' he said.

'Would you like a cup of tea?' she said. 'I was just going to have one.'

'That would be very nice.' the man said. 'I'll watch the boy while you make it.'

She smiled and went into her small kitchen and poured two mugs of tea. Jack chatted to the man.

'My Daddy is brave and strong.' Jack said. 'Mummy's gone to live with the angels.'

'I expect she is watching you though, and is pleased when you are a good boy.' he swept Jack up and swung him around. He squealed with delight.

Jack smiled at him. Just then the cup of tea arrived.

'Thank you Ma'am.' he said, taking the drink and sipping it. 'So what happened to the boy's mother?'

'She was murdered.' she said, turning away as tears ran down her cheeks.

'I am sorry, I didn't mean to awaken bad memories.' he said. 'Maybe I can drive the two of you out one day by way of an apology.'

She smiled at him. 'That would be nice.' she said.

-0-0-0-

'He is tolerating the torture far better than we expected.'

'I agree. I thought we would have broken him far more quickly.'

'The periods of un consciousness are getting longer. I am concerned that we are damaging him.'

'Does that matter? After all, we are going to have to kill him in the end.'

'Not necessarily. If this works, we can just dump him off somewhere. He won't know who or where he is by then. We only need to kill him if this doesn't work.'

They were watching Hotch as he was lying on the floor in the cell. He was dehydrated now, and that was making him stay unconscious for longer. Every now and again his limbs would jerk and twitch in response to the damage that they were doing to his nervous system. Although his mind was alert and fighting, his body was weakening. It had been several days now, and he hadn't been allowed to sleep or drink, and they hadn't given him food.

'We have a lever to break him now. Notice how he reacted when we mentioned his child. If necessary we could bring the child here.'

'That is an option...... look he's waking up again. Let's carry onto phase two.'

-0-0-0-

Hotch kept his eyes closed. He had hoped to stay still and go to sleep. He was disoriented and sick through not sleeping, and he was having difficulty in co-ordinating himself. But as soon as he was conscious, he felt the need for water. He turned and looked into the camera.

'Water...... please......' he croaked. His mouth was dry and cracked, and his lips were splitting. He knew he would die soon if he didn't drink.

He sank down to the floor and drew his knees up. He rested his head on his knees and wrapped his arms around his head.

'There is no reward for disobedience. Now let's try the question again. What is your name.'

Tears sprang to Hotch's eyes. The last shock had been especially violent, and he braced himself for another.

He blinked back the tears of distress and faced the camera. He couldn't stand, but he stared in defiance.

'I am Special agent Aaron Hotch........'

This time the device was turned to a higher setting, and Hotch had no chance against it. He passed out after three agonising seconds, and fell rigid backwards, eyes wide and rolling in their sockets, his mouth open in a silent scream. When the dark finally took him it was a relief.

-0-0-0-

They had already decided which of them was going to do phase two of the program. While Hotch was unconscious, he unlocked the door and went in, taking a chair and small table. On the table he placed a bottle of water and a glass. He stripped Hotch and then sat down and patiently waited for him to regain consciousness.

The bright light of the room cut into his sleep as he gradually woke up again. His neck was burnt now, the continual shocks doing damage to his cells. He crawled into a corner, and curled up with his back to the corner, in pain and anguish, not understanding, disoriented and confused.

He opened his eyes and looked at the man sitting in the room with him. He struggled to focus.

'What do you want of me.' he said, his voice a hoarse whisper. The man said nothing. He poured a glass of the water and took a sip. Then he picked up the remote control and pointed it at Hotch.

'Who is Jack?'

'Don't hurt jack...... please, don't touch him....' Hotch turned onto his hands and knees and inched towards the man.

'You have another chance – who is jack?'

'Jack is...... my son.' he gasped.

'Very good. Now would you like a drink?'

The man held out the glass. Hotch reached out for it, but the man placed it back on the table.

'Come and get it if you want it.' he said.

Hotch dragged himself to the table and reached up for the water. There was a little left in the glass and Hotch drank it, some running down his chin as he attempted to hold the glass steady. With trembling hands he put the glass on the table again.

'Thank you.'

He rolled onto his side and waited.

'Stand up.' the man said.

Hotch turned slowly onto his hands and knees, and tried to stand, but his body was weak and in pain. He couldn't do it.

The man stood. 'I said stand up.' he roared. 'That is not an option.'

He came around the table and drew back his foot. Hotch knew what was coming but didn't have the strength to avoid the kick. The man's foot struck him under the chin, and he was sent sprawling backwards onto the floor. The man kicked him again in the stomach this time, and Hotch threw up the precious water he had consumed, and he lay on the floor, naked, bleeding and shaking.

'Now stand.' Hotch rolled onto his front and got onto his hands and knees. The man said nothing, but waited while Hotch struggled onto his feet. After collapsing back down twice, he finally managed to stand. He stood swaying and watched the man take the bottle and pour himself a drink. He watched as he drank some, and placed the bottle back on the table.

'Let me show you a picture.' the man said. He reached into his pocket and took out some photographs. He held one up for Hotch to see. It was Jack, playing in the garden of his Aunt. Hotch blinked in shock.

'Who is this.'

'My son, Jack.'

'Very good.' he said, smiling. 'A beautiful child. I watched him play for a while. When I bought him an ice cream, he said thank you. Such a polite little boy. He is good at football too. We played for quite a while.

Hotch felt sick. He wanted to throw himself at the man and throttle the life out of him. But all he could manage was to just stand there, watching the photograph in the man's hand. He put the photo down and showed him another.

'Here he is sitting in my car.' said the man. Terror filled Hotch's very being. This evil man had touched his son, and where was he? The father who was supposed to protect him?

'No.' was all that Hotch could manage. But it was enough. The control was pointed at him.

Hotch closed his eyes and waited. The shock was on a light setting. It was enough to knock Hotch off his feet but it didn't knock him out. On his hands and knees in front of his tormentor, he looked up at him.

'Please......' he whispered. 'Don't t-touch my....... son.'

The man took another drink. Slowly and tormentingly, he sipped the clear water. Hotch felt faint.

'Stand.' the man ordered.

Hotch tried, but he was now too weak. The man sighed, and activated the device. Hotch was thrown into a convulsion, and he bit down on his tongue, his entire body twisted un naturally. Then he passed out, his only thought was for his little boy who he was not able to protect.

The man left the room, taking the chair and table with him.

-0-0-0-

Reid was studying security tapes from outside the FBI head quarters, and any more that he could find between the BAU and Aaron's home. The kidnappers were highly organised and knew exactly what they were doing. They must have been watching Aaron for a while.

There was one car that showed up a little too often. He took the tape to Garcia.

'This car here.' he said as they watched a tape together. 'I need the licence plate from it.' he said.

Garcia worked her magic, and enhanced the picture. The plate bit by bit became clear.

'There it is.' she said. 'Is this the car that took Hotch?'

'It could be.' he said. He watched the screen jump to life at Garcia's bidding, and it revealed the name and address of the owner of the car.

'Wonderful.' he smiled, and used her phone to call Dave.

'I think we have a break in the case.' he said. 'I'm in Garcia's bunker.'

Dave left his office in a hurry and went down to where Reid was waiting.

'What have you got?'

'Well I thought I'd check out the security tapes between here and Hotch's house to see if he was being followed at all. Hotch wouldn't have noticed, as the following car was always at least two cars behind. But watching it like this makes it obvious. That car there', he pointed to the screen, 'is following Hotch more often than not. We have a licence plate. They live in Quantico.'

'Good work, Reid. Get the others. I think we should be visiting these people.'

-0-0-0-

The house was a large colonial on the outskirts of town, in a semi rural setting, the road was gentrified in recent years, and was now a sought after area. This one, however, let the side down. It was shabby, in need of TLC. Morgan and Emily went around the back, Reid and Rossi went up the path to the front door. They stood on either side of the door, backs to the wall.

'FBI! Open up!'

There was no sound from in the house. Dave leaned across and opened the door. The interior of the house was dark and chilled, all the curtains were closed, and it had an eerie atmosphere.

At the back of the house, Morgan and Prentiss looked through the window of the detached garage.

'It's the car from the security tapes.' he said.

'No white van though.' Emily said

In the house, one by one, Dave 'cleared' the downstairs rooms while Reid went and opened the back door for Morgan and Prentiss. Then the four of them went up into the bedrooms.

There was no one home. The four agents checked around for clues as to Hotch's whereabouts. Emily opened the fridge.

'No one has been here for a while.' she said, picking up a bottle of soured milk. 'All the food in the fridge is off.'

'Ok, look for anything that might help us. Reid and I will talk to the neighbours.' Dave said. 'And remember, this is unofficial.'

He and Reid left by the front door and went to the house on the right. The woman was in her garden, picking flowers. She said that she hadn't seen anyone for over a week.

'There used to be a white van that came by.' she said. 'I'm glad they don't come any more. They used to block the road with it, and I couldn't get through. When I asked them to move it, I got abuse. I hope they don't come back.'

'Have you noticed anything suspicious in the last two weeks?' Reid asked.

'It's been quiet.' she said. 'I've not seen anyone for quite a while.'

Dave thanked her and left his card. They went back and joined the other two.

'I think we have everything we can get from here.' Dave said. 'Let's get back and chase up this white van lead.'

At last, feeling as if they were finally getting somewhere, the four agents headed back to the BAU.

-0-0-0-

Hotch lay on the floor in the bright light of his cell, semi conscious, in agonising pain. Every movement hurt, and he was light headed with dehydration.

'Please, let me have a drink.' he whispered. 'Someone, please help me.......'

He cringed as he heard the door open again.........


	5. New Blood

**Mind Games  
**Chapter 5  
New Blood

"_**I assess the power of a will by how much resistance, pain, **__**torture**__** it endures and knows how to turn to its advantage.**__**" – Friedrich Nietzsche**_

Hotch pressed himself into the corner of the room. He heard the door close again and he waited for the inevitable questions. But none came. Slowly he turned his back to the wall and opened his eyes. Just inside the room was a bottle of water. He crawled towards it, his co ordination completely gone now, he had difficulty moving, his brain sending messages that his sick body couldn't obey. He finally reached the bottle and with trembling hands he twisted off the lid.

He knew he had to drink it slowly, a little at a time, but he couldn't prevent himself. He put the bottle to his parched lips and drank half of it, spilling the other half down his chin onto his chest where it ran down his body onto the floor.

He drank it too quickly, and coughed and gagged. The feel of the water in his mouth was beautiful, and he fought not to be sick. He didn't know when he would be offered some more. He turned to the camera.

'Thank you.' he mouthed, unable to speak. He dragged himself back to the corner again and waited.

'What is your name?'

Hotch looked at the camera. The watching men saw distress in his dark eyes. They could tell he was afraid to answer the question.

Hotch still had the same determination. He gripped the ring and held it away from his burned neck.

'You will not break me.' he said, the tremor in his voice making it difficult for the watchers to hear. 'You will n-not break me. I am Aaron Hotchner of..........'

His arms jerked and pulled away from the ring, and his body twisted sideways in an attempt to move away from the rink. The fight was useless. He was determined not to break, but he might be killed in the attempt. He lay on his back panting for breath as the pain subsided.

'........ Of the FBI.' he finished in a whisper. The pain came again. He rolled screaming on the floor as the shocks came just enough to incapacitate him, but not enough to knock him out. Tears drew precious water from his body and his limbs twitched painfully as he waited for what ever they were planning to do to him next.

The door opened and the man came in again, with the small table and the water. He watched from his position on the floor as the water was poured into a glass and the man drank some. He watched the mist on the cold glass turn to droplets where the man's hand touched it, and he crawled towards the table.

'Please, give me a drink.' Hotch begged.

'First, tell me your name.'

'Please, I don't know what answer you are wanting from me.' Hotch said softly.

'You are indeed a strong willed man. You have been here for seven days and you are not broken. It should not take so long. What is your name?'

'The only answer I have is Aaron Hotchner........'

A higher level convulsed Hotch on the floor. His screams could be heard outside the building, echoed into nothingness in the empty air. His body twisted uncontrollably, but still he wouldn't give up. As the device stopped discharging, he lay on his back, eyes wide and glazed over.

'Name now!'

'Aaron Hotchner.' and before the devise could be activated, Hotch passed out.

-0-0-0-

They dragged his inert body out of the cell into another room. The floor was half carpeted and half concrete. On the carpet stood an old leather topped desk with a matching leather upholstered captain's chair. An old lamp stood on the desk, and a sheaf of paper and a carafe of iced water. A gold nibbed pen lay next to the paper, and one of the watchers sat in the chair, as Hotch was dragged in. A chain hoist was attached to his wrists and he was lifted so that his feet just touched the floor. His body was grazed and battered and blood smeared. His head hung forwards, his hair matted and dirty.

'Wake him up.' the man at the desk said. A bottle of ammonia was waved under his blood encrusted nose, and he slowly raised his head.

'We are through being nice to you, Aaron Hotchner. Now we are really going to test your strength. Who are you?'

Aaron stared at the man, trying to focus on him.

'I will not answer your question.' Aaron said. The man at the desk poured himself a drink. Aaron watched every movement. The man sipped the water, then he inclined his head to the man at the door. He came round to the front of the desk and punched Aaron in the stomach. He tried to curl forwards but he wasn't able. He threw up on the floor, coughing and gagging.

'You will answer. Who are you?'

'You want me to deny myself. I will not do it. You will not break me. I am Aaron Hotchner.'

The ring was activated, and his body seized and swung on the hoist until he mercifully fainted again.

'This isn't working. We'll end up killing him without breaking him first. Go and collect the child.'

'I do not want to be a party to hurting a child. There has to be another way. Does Hotchner have a lover?'

'His wife is recently dead, but there is an agent in the BAU who is a close friend. We could try him first, then if that doesn't work, we will have to get the child........'

-0-0-0-

Rossi was going home to get some sleep. Hotch had been missing for eight days, and Rossi had hardly slept in that time. He parked his car in the drive; he couldn't be bothered to put it in the garage, and walked wearily to his door. He was about to insert the key when he realised that his door was not locked.

There had been some break ins in the neighbourhood. Rossi felt a tingling in the back of his neck as he wondered why his dogs hadn't barked.

He unclipped his Glock and pushed open the door, gun at the ready. A man was sitting in his old chair by the window.

'Hello Agent David Rossi. I understand that you are looking for Agent Hotchner. I have come to take you to him.'

Rossi had his gun trained on the man's head.

'Tell me where he is, and I'll let you go.' Dave said.

'It doesn't work like that.' a voice from behind him said.

Without lowering his gun, he turned to see two other armed men at his front door.

'Lower your weapon, Agent Rossi.'

Slowly Dave dropped his arm and put the gun on the table. The man in the chair leaned forwards and picked it up.

'Now, come with us, Sir, and we will take you to see Agent Hotchner.'

Rossi turned and left his house, following the two armed men to where there was a white van parked. One of the men opened the back and indicated for Dave to get in. The doors were closed and the three men got in the front and the van drove out of the car park.

There were no windows in the van, and Dave was thrown about as the vehicle took the corners. He tried at first to draw a map in his head and follow where he was going but after a while, he got lost and had to give up.

They had been travelling for about an hour before the van stopped, and he heard the doors open and close. Then seconds later the back door opened. It was dark outside, but Dave could see the silhouette of the three men.

'This way, please Sir.' one said, and Dave was led to the door of an old building. He was led down a corridor to a metal door. The man in front opened the door and Rossi stepped into the darkened room. One of the men passed him and sat in the leather chair, and the other two left.

There was no light in the room. Rossi stood by the door and waited.

'Where is Agent Hotchner?' he said. 'You told me you would bring me to him.'

'He is here.' the man at the desk said, and he switched on a light.

Dave gasped in horror. Hotch was hanging from the hoist on the other side of the room. He was unconscious, and bleeding from his nose. The blood dripped steadily onto the floor. Aaron wasn't moving.

Dave went to him.

'What are you doing to him?' he yelled, trying to release his arms. Hotch moaned with pain as Dave touched his skin. 'What have you done?'

The man at the desk nodded, and the two other men came in and woke Aaron again. He raised his head and locked eyes with Dave.

'Is this another trick?' Aaron gasped.

'Let us show Agent Rossi how this works. What is your name?' the man said. 'David, I would let go of him if I were you.'

'I am Aaron Hotchner.'

Dave stepped away from him. 'What are you going to do?'

'Just watch.' and the device was activated, Hotch arched his back and screamed.

'For god's sake, stop!' Dave shouted. 'Leave him alone!' He ran to Hotch and tried to soothe him, holding the weight of his body.

Aaron's head dropped forward and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. The two watchers came in and pulled him away from Aaron. One held his arms behind him while the other woke Aaron up again. He coughed and gasped for breath.

He looked up. The man at the desk sipped the iced water.

'Who are you?' The sentence was punctuated with a punch to Dave's face.

'Oh no no.' whispered Aaron. 'I can't answer the question. I don't know the answer. Please let him go.'

'What is your NAME?'

Dave doubled up as the fists hit him again.

'See what you are doing by not answering the question correctly.' and the device sent the shock wave through him again. He threw his head back and screamed but he stayed conscious.'

'Please, please, I don't know what you want me to........ ' this time the pain was overpowering, and he passed out. The light was turned of except for a spotlight in his face. Rossi was dragged from the room, and Hotch was left alone, hanging from the hoist.

-0-0-0-

Dave came to slowly. He lay on the floor without moving, guessing he was being watched. They were torturing Hotch, but as yet he had no idea what information they wanted, Hotch was keeping integrity even under torture.

So why had they brought him to their lair?

He was soon to find out. The door opened and two of the watchers entered.

'It's visiting time, David. Hotchner is waiting for you.'

They pulled him up and led him out of the room into the half carpet room next door. Aaron was awake now, holding his head up defiantly.

The two men with Rossi held him in front of Aaron. The man behind the desk came round to the front, with the remote device in his hand.

'What is your name, Agent Hotchner?'

Hotch didn't speak. Dave struggled in the grip of the two men. The man from behind the desk punched Dave in the face, cracking his neck back, and spraying blood from his mouth.

'Leave him ...... alone!' Aaron gasped. He was not able to speak properly – his mouth was dry and cracked, his throat sore.

'Name. Now!'

The next punch was to his stomach. The two men let him go and he fell to the floor on his knees.

'Look what you are doing to your friend, Agent Hotchner. How can you let this carry on like this.'

He kicked Dave in the face and he fell back on the floor.

'What is your name?'

Aaron felt tears on his cheeks. 'Aaron Hotchner.' he said, and as the ring was activated, the last thing he saw was Dave being beaten.


	6. The Second Week

**Mind Games  
**Chapter 6  
The Second Week

**A/N Warning – Character death**

"_**On the **__**death**__** of a **__**friend**__**, we should consider that the fates through confidence have devolved on us the task of a double living, that we have henceforth to fulfil the promise of our **__**friend**__**'s life also, in our own, to the world.**__**" – Henry David Thoreau**_

No one spoke to Aaron for many hours. He was left on the hoist, the spotlight in his face. He looked longingly at the water on the desk, but the only time he had contact with anyone was to be woken up if he passed out.

He was in deep distress at seeing them hit Dave, and he tried to think what they wanted him to say. It was getting difficult now to say his name, associated as it was with pain. There was blood on the concrete, a pool that had stained the edge of the carpet. Dave's blood.

Aaron's mouth wouldn't close now. The small drink had been enough to prevent him from dying, but that was all.

He passed out again, and was revived with the ammonia bottle. The alkali burned the inside of his nose, and he woke up with a start.

Dave was being held in front of him, a watcher on either side.

'Don't tell them, Aaron, they can't break you.' he said. He was rewarded with another beating with the fists of the third man. Dave was dropped to the floor, and the two men left. The third sat comfortably at the desk.

Aaron breathed in a shuddering breath. He didn't have enough water for tears, and couldn't cry for his friend. He awaited the dreaded question, but instead, the man said,

'Agent David Rossi here has come to help you to give me the right answer, Agent Hotchner. Shall we waken him, and you can have a talk together.'

The man threw some of the water on Dave's face, and he blinked open his eyes.

'I'm going to leave you two to have a chat.' he said. 'I will be back soon.' and he left the room.'

Dave got up and staggered to Aaron. He wanted to free him, but the hoist was locked.

'I can't get you out of this thing.' he said, fighting with the lock.

'Water.' Aaron said thickly.

Dave went to the desk and took the carafe and held it to Aaron's lips. He sucked at it gratefully. Dave took away the water.

'Not too much, Aaron, or you will be sick.' He nodded slowly.

'Keep asking my name.' he croaked. 'Don't know .... what they want. Can't answer....... dying....'

'No.' Dave said. 'You are not going to die.' he gently wiped water off Aaron's chin and offered him a little more.

'Hurting.... you...'

'Don't worry about that, Aaron. I've had worse.' he said, with a lop sided smile. 'What do they want from you?'

'My name.... asking my name.' Aaron said, his voice croaky and almost unintelligible.

Dave went back to the hoist, and tried again to loosen it.

'Lie to them, Aaron. Let them think they've broken you.'

'Can't , Dave. They are t-terrorists. They must ... n-not think they won.'

Before Dave could answer, the door opened and the three men entered again. Dave was held between the two and the other sat at the desk.

'So, let's start again, shall we, Agent? What is your name?'

Aaron felt fear. He said nothing.

'What is your NAME?'

Still Aaron said nothing. His eyes locked with Dave's, and Dave nodded slightly. The two men either side of him threw him to the floor and kicked him. Aaron shook his head.

'Please no.....' he managed to say. 'I c-can't say m-my name.' The sounds of Dave being beaten made Aaron feel sick and helpless. 'Let him go and I will t-tell you what ever you want.'

Dave rolled onto his side and Aaron could hear his ragged breathing.

'Let him go.' the man behind the desk said, 'and leave us.'

Dave was dragged once again out of the room.

'Who is Haley Hotchner?'

'My dead wife.' Aaron answered without hesitating.

'And who is Jack?'

Aaron raised his head and looked into the eyes of his tormenter. 'Jack is my little boy. Please don't hurt him.'

'I expect you would like to see some more photographs. We had a lovely day out. I took him to Water World.' the man smiled. 'He loved the water. You should have been there.'

He came around the desk with a pile of photographs, amused at Aaron's obvious distress. One by one he held the photos up for Aaron to see. He looked at them with anguish filled eyes.

'He is innocent..... please leave him alone....'

'Now I have shared these with you, I want you to do something for me.' He ambled slowly back to his chair and poured some water. Aaron heard the ice clink in the carafe.

'I am going to ask you again. If you get the answer right, I will reward you. You know what happens if you get it wrong.'

'What have you done with Dave? H-have you let..... him go?'

'Do you doubt my word, Hotchner?'

Aaron shook his head.

'So, here we go, what is your name?'

Aaron stayed silent. he knew what was coming, and he cringed as the man pointed the remote control at him and pressed the button.

Aaron's scream was heard two doors away by Dave. He hammered on the door, but he knew it was useless. There was nothing he could do to help his friend. The scream came again.

Dave tried to close off the sounds of agony. The cries were getting weaker, and Dave prayed that soon Aaron would pass out. But the screams went on, there was no easy escape.

Dave curled up on the thin mattress that was on the floor, with his hands over his ears, trying to block the terrible sounds. He tried instead to work out how long he had been here. It was probably two days by now, maybe three. The rest of the team would be looking for him too now. It was extremely unlikely that they would find them.

Dave slept fitfully on and off for several hours. The screams continued through the night, and as the dawn sun shone through the small window, they came for him again.

He was asleep when they came. Dave was racked with guilt, sleeping while his best friend was being tortured, but exhaustion took hold and he was not able to prevent it.

Meekly he allowed himself to be taken before Aaron again. Aaron was still chained up, his head was forward, eyes closed. His face was bloody as if he had been beaten, and blood was running from his ear. Dave struggled to get away, and they let him go to his friend.

Dave put his arms around him and took his weight. Aaron opened his eyes and looked at Dave. There was no spark, no life in his dark eyes, only misery and pain.

'I can't..... d-do it.' he croaked.

The two men pulled Dave away from Aaron, and Dave turned to the man behind the desk.

'He has proved that he won't break, now free him, you sadistic bastard!'

He threw himself across the desk and grabbed the man by the collar. He knocked over the lamp and the water carafe smashed to the floor. The two men pulled him off their colleague, and hit him in the solar plexus. While Dave struggled for breath, they pulled him round and stood him in front of Aaron again. The man behind the desk was holding Dave's Glock.

'That little performance is going to cost you dearly.' he said and held the gun to the side of Dave's head execution style.

'Please, I beg ..... of you. Don't kill him ...... please!'

He shot Dave point blank. Blood, bone and brain tissue exploded out of Dave's head and spattered across Aaron's face and chest. Dave slumped in the arms of the two men holding him, and his body was dropped unceremoniously to the floor.

'Oh g-god no!' Aaron cried out in horror. 'Why? Wh-why did you have to kill him?'

'Let us try the question again. What is your name?'

Aaron wasn't listening. He was looking at the body of his friend, torn by grief and desperate sadness. He watched as the blood pool grew and thickened around Dave's head, and Hotch cried dry tears for his friend.

He tore his eyes away and stared at the killer. 'I don't know what answer you want. My name you know. I am Aa.........'

A high power shock, and Aaron arched his back and screamed hoarsely as his pain receptors fired. The pain stopped just short of knocking him out.

The question came again, this time, he refused to answer. When the pain came, he fainted.

-0-0-0-

When Dave didn't come back to work the next day, Reid went to find him.

The first thing he noticed was that the dogs didn't bark. They always barked at him All dogs did. The team jokingly called it the Reid Effect. He was instantly alert, and pulled out his revolver.

He checked each room, and noticed that the bed hadn't been slept in. When he reached the kitchen, he found the dogs, both shot through the head on the kitchen floor.

He called the team. Now maybe there could be an official investigation.

Emily and Morgan were at the house in record speed. Reid called the CSU to come and process the house, and Morgan called the CTU. It wasn't certain that there were terrorist connections, but since nine eleven, no one took any chances.

The CSU found nothing at the scene. There were no prints that were not Dave's. The abductors were very clever, accomplished, which was why terrorism seemed all the more likely. their best hope was the ballistics from the bullets that killed the dogs.

Emily went to check out the neighbours. She went to the front door of the house on the right and knocked.

'Yes I heard the shots.' the woman said, 'But I thought nothing of it. Mr Rossi has a gun, I thought it was him.'

'Did you hear the dogs bark around the same time?' Emily asked.

'Well, now you say, I did actually. But I haven't heard them since. I thought Mr Rossi had taken them out to the forest for a run. He does that sometimes you know.'

'Yes.' Emily said, getting annoyed at the woman's indifference. 'And what time would that have been?'

'Six thirty.' she said emphatically, adding that she had been watching the news.

Emily came away. So whoever it was, killed the dogs to shut them up, and just waited until Dave came home.

As she went to the house on the other side, it occurred to her that no one knew Rossi was going home then, until he said he was.

So who tipped them off?

'I think Rossi's car is bugged.' she said, hurrying back into the house

-0-0-0-

They didn't move Dave's body. When Aaron woke up again, it was still there where it had fallen. The room was empty, and the light was still on. Aaron was disoriented and confused. Lack of sleep, dehydration, and constant pain were taking their toll.

He thought about the pictures of his little boy, and a horrible fear tore at him. He longed to see Jacky, but these pictures were an obscenity, an abomination. And Dave...... ever loyal Dave. Dead at his feet for trying to protect him.

The door opened and broke his thoughts. The watcher was back with a new carafe of water.

'That was unfortunate.' the man said, settling himself down in the leather chair. 'It was a shame we had to kill him. Now where were we?' He righted the lamp, and replaced the carafe. He clapped his hands, and a man that Aaron hadn't seen before came into the room. He stepped over the body on the floor and bent down and picked up the broken glass.

'Well now, the place is tidy again,' he said, 'let's get down to the business in hand. What is your name? If I don't get the right answer this time, I am going to have to bring your son here to visit. You don't see enough of him, do you? I can easily change that.'

Aaron blinked. Somewhere inside him was his name. He knew Dave, and Jack, but he was having trouble with his own name.

'Please don't hurt me.' he whispered thickly. 'Don't touch Jack.'

'What is your name?'

'I can't remember. I don't know. Please, I forget!'

The man smiled.

'We got there in the end, though didn't we?' and he put the remote control on the desk, and left the room.


	7. Last Level

**Mind Games  
**Chapter 7  
Last Level

_**Play to win, or don't play at all – Olympic Proverb**_

Aaron stared down at the body at his feet. He could feel the warmth of his blood across his face and chest, but he couldn't remember what had happened. He couldn't remember what he was doing there, and he wanted to call out for help, but his throat hurt, and his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. He felt sick, but he didn't know why.

He looked up at the camera, and tilted his head to the side.

_What is this place? Who am I?_

The door opened. The man went and sat in the leather captain's chair.

'What is your name?' the man asked. Aaron stared at him, trying to think.

'I don't know.......... I can't remember!' he was getting distressed. The man came around from behind the desk and loosened the hoist. Aaron collapsed onto the floor with an agonised cry next to the stiffening body of Agent Rossi.

'O-officer down.' he said softly. He turned the body over and looked at the gaping wound that was the left side of his head. He looked up at the watcher. 'Why did you do this?'

'You need not concern yourself about him.' he answered. 'Just remember that his violence was rewarded appropriately. Now come with me and you can have a drink and sleep in a bed.'

Aaron couldn't stand. His shoulders hurt, and his legs wouldn't move. He rolled onto his front and crawled to the man. He reached up to him.

'Please help me.' he whispered hoarsely.

The man took him by the upper arms and pulled him to his feet, but he fell back down as soon as he was released. He felt pain when his skin was touched, the pain receptors firing indiscriminately. He pulled Aaron along the floor by his arms out of the room into a corridor. The door to the next room along was open, and Aaron was pulled into the room and lifted onto the bed. He didn't move, his eyes were dry and un focussed.

'.... help me....'

A rough sheet was thrown over him, and his arm was fitted with an IV line. Aaron cringed as the dirty needle was stuck in his arm. It took several attempts, and the arm bled profusely, but eventually, he got it right.

Saline was dripped slowly into his arm.

'What are you doing? That's not the plan!' one of the watchers said.

'He's too far gone for a drink to work. This way he lives.' the man said. 'We can't use him if he's dead.'

'You killed the other one. Couldn't we have used him?'

'Possibly, but his death broke Hotchner. He was more use dead.'

Aaron was sleeping, and he moaned softly as his body began to recover. It was possible that he would die anyway – he should have broken after three or four days, not almost two weeks. The man was mentally powerful.

'Leave him to sleep. We can see if he lives tomorrow.'

-0-0-0-

Aaron woke up many hours later. He was feeling better now, his body partially re hydrated. He pulled out the IV line and staggered to the adjoining bathroom. There was a small shower cubicle , without a screen, and Hotch turned on the water. He stepped under the burning jets and tired to wash the pain away. Blood from his hair stained the water dripping off his body. He sank down and sat in the shower tray, his head resting on his knees, confused and disoriented. He pulled at the ring around his neck. He tried to think, as he washed Dave's brain matter off his skin.

They had killed Dave. That much he knew, but everything else was hiding as if behind a curtain. He could see shapes, but he couldn't bring the forms together to make a complete image.

He crawled out of the shower and looked at his unfamiliar face in the mirror. Who was he? What the hell was going on?

'Who am I?' he shouted. 'What do you want me for? Why the hell are you doing this?'

He punched his fists onto the mirror, distorting the image. The voice came.

'Violence will not be tolerated.'

The ring was activated, and Aaron was thrown off his feet across the room. His head hit again against the tiled wall, and blood ran down his wet skin and puddled on the floor. He gasped for breath.

'You will be told your mission in due course. Your clothes are on the bed. Dress yourself.'

Aaron crawled painfully to the bed. He ignored the clothes and curled up on the mattress, trying to protect himself, knowing it was useless.

'What is your name?'

'I don't know.'

'Who are you?'

'You know the answer! Tell me!' Aaron cried, sitting up on the bed. 'Why are you doing this to me?'

'We have one more task for you, then we have finished with you.' the voice said.

'Tell me! What do I have to do?'

'You are going to kill someone.'

-0-0-0-

They had found the bug in Dave's car, but it was of no help. They already knew who they were looking for. It was just a matter of finding them. Reid was sitting with Dave's neighbour trying to get her to identify the van.

'It was all blacked out.' she said. 'Even the back windows.'

'Did you see Mr Rossi get into the van?' Reid asked.

'He got into the back. I couldn't see it from where I was.' she said.

Reid sighed. They were getting no where fast. There were no security cameras in the area that could track the van; they had no way of knowing even which direction it drove off in. Reid arranged a lift for the woman, and she left.

'Nothing.' he told Morgan. 'Where do we go from here?'

Morgan's phone rang. He answered it, and listened for a few seconds, then he sat down.

'Oh my dear god.' he said softly. 'Are you sure?'

He closed the phone and looked at his colleagues.

'They've found a body. It's Dave.'

'He's dead?' Prentiss said in horror. Morgan nodded.

'Head shot, point blank. He's in autopsy. They've got his clothes in the lab. There might be trace that can lead us to where it happened .....where he was shot.'

Reid hadn't said anything. He sat with his hands over his face. He could hardly believe it. If they had killed Dave, was Hotch dead too? What was he killed for? They took him from his home in the night just to kill him?

'I don't think they were planning to kill him. Otherwise, why go to the trouble of abducting him.' Reid said. 'He must have been shot for another reason.

'Maybe it was a way to force Hotch's hand.' Prentiss said.

'Or maybe he refused to co operate.'

'I'm going down to the lab.' Morgan said. 'This is urgent now.'

-0-0-0-

They put Hotchner in the back of the van with the body of David Rossi. Hotch didn't want to ride with the corpse but he had no choice, he was shoved into the van, and he knelt next to his friend. It was slowly sinking in that Dave was dead, and he was finding it difficult to come to terms with it.

They pulled up on the edge of town and rolled Dave's body onto the grass verge. They pulled Aaron out of the van and sat him in the back of a car that they had waiting.

They dropped Aaron off at the back of the BAU, gave him his gun, and drove away. They thought that it was highly unlikely that he would get out of there alive, and if by any slim chance that he did, they certainly didn't want anything more to do with him. All they needed to know was whether the ring worked or not.

The ring could be remotely detonated if necessary.

It had taken far longer to break him than they thought it would, but then Agent Aaron Hotchner was an exceptional man.

Aaron walked through the underground car park to the lift. It felt strange to him. He couldn't remember ever being there before, but he seemed to know the right way to go.

He passed Reid's old Volvo, and pressed the button for the lift. The retinal scan confirmed his identity, and the door slid open to admit him.

He fingered the gun on his hip, and went over the instructions he had been given. He unclipped the gun and took off the safety catch.

_How did I know to do that?_

The lift door slid closed behind him, and started to go up. Aaron pressed stop, and leaned against the wall of the car. He felt short of breath as adrenalin coursed through his battered body.

He stared at his reflection in the mirrored walls of the car. Bloody nose and split lips, blood running from his right ear......

_Who are you? Why are you doing this?_

He pressed go and the lift resumed it's journey. He tried to visualise the room where he was to get off, but it wasn't possible. The lift came to a halt and the doors opened.

With his hand on the gun, he stepped out of the lift onto a raised walkway.

'Hotch!'

He swung round to see a dark haired woman with olive skin. She was not the target. He staggered slightly as he crossed the walkway.

'Hotch! when did you get back? are you alright?'

Aaron ignored the woman and stood at the top of the steps that led down into the bull pen.

There was his target. He hadn't looked up, and he hadn't seen him yet. He went down the steps and crossed the floor.

'Hey everyone! Hotch is back!'

That was when the target looked up. Aaron was surprised to see that the man's eyes were red as if he had been crying.

'Hotch! What?.........How?........' he said. 'They've hurt you. Let me help you.'

Suddenly Aaron didn't want to do this thing. He looked into the hazel eyes of the target and he pulled his gun.

'I have to kill you.' he said, 'But I don't want to.' Aaron was disoriented and suddenly felt sick and dizzy. He staggered against the desk. Reid took a step towards him. Aaron quickly raised his gun.

Reid reached out his hands to Hotch.

'Please, Hotch, let me have the gun.' he said.

'No!' he shouted, holding the gun shakily with both hands. Reid noticed that his hands were grazed and bleeding. 'I have to do this, they killed Dave.'

The gun wavered slightly. Reid saw Prentiss over Hotch's shoulder with her Glock ready to fire. Reid took another step closer.

'Who killed Dave, Hotch?' he said, trying to make eye contact again, but Hotch was avoiding it. 'Tell us about Dave.'

'They shot his brains out.' Hotch said, tears in his eyes. 'It sprayed all over me.'

Reid made to step closer still. 'What is that around your neck, Hotch?'

'Get back!' Hotch shouted. He was crying hard now, tears misting his vision. The pain was killing him, every movement of his body sent waves of pain through him like knives skinning his body. He faltered, and he heard the bullets set into their firing chambers behind him.

Morgan had joined Prentiss. Both had their guns trained, both thinking the same thing – they might not be able to shoot Hotch.

He had to do this. He had to kill this man.

In one smooth movement, Hotch raised and steadied the gun, and pulled the trigger. Reid was blasted backwards over his desk and onto the floor, a red hole in his chest. Almost simultaneously, two other shots rang out and Hotch dropped his gun and slumped to the floor bleeding from two gunshot wounds in the back.

Morgan was on the phone......

'Medics to the BAU. Urgent!'


	8. The Shooting

**Mind Games  
**Chapter 8  
The Shooting

_**But if the while I think on thee, dear friend, All losses are restored and sorrows end. - William Shakespeare**_

As the echo of the shots faded, no one moved, frozen in shock. Then Morgan ran to Reid, Emily to Hotch.

Hotch was still gripping the gun in his hand, he was lying face down on the floor, the two shots in his back seeping blood onto his suit jacket. Emily prised the gun from his hand, and threw it out of reach. Carefully she turned him onto his back, and cradled his head in her lap.

'What the hell was that, Hotch?' she said, but the man was unconscious, and didn't answer.

Morgan was pressing down on the hole in Reid's chest. It was bubbling blood, and Reid's breathing was laboured and he had a froth of blood on his lips.

'He shot me!' he said, hazel eyes wide with disbelief and shock. Morgan held him with one hand, pressed his wound with the other.

'Don't talk, Kid.' he said. 'Just stay awake, look at me.' he added, as Reid's eyes rolled in their sockets.

Someone had called for medics, and the emergency services were being summoned. Emily checked Hotch's pulse. He had one but it was weak. It was difficult to say why. Both she and Morgan had been careful that their shots were non fatal. He had obviously been deprived of food for the fifteen days that he had been missing, and his skin was hot and dry to the touch. He had a fever of some kind. It was then that she noticed the metal ring around his neck.

'What is this?' she said, and she turned the ring, looking for a way to remove it. It appeared to be a continuous band with no join. As she turned it, a shock wave jolted through her, and she was thrown across the bull pen. Shakily she got up and crawled back to Hotch's side.

His body was in the grip of a convulsion. His back was arched and a trickle of blood had formed in the corner of his mouth.

'Morgan!' she yelled. 'I've got to get this thing off his neck! It's killing him.'

Hotch was gritting his teeth in a grimace. His arms were thrown wide, and he was arched off the floor. Emily wrapped her jacket around her hands and pulled the ring away from his neck. She could see that his skin was blistered and burnt where the ring touched him. She could feel the buzz of the shock waves through the cloth.

'Morgan, I need bolt cutters.' she said. Morgan called for the emergency service team to bring some.

Hotch's eyes were wide open now. They stared at Emily, pleading for help.

'Help is on it's way, Hotch. Just hold on!'

The lift opened, and someone ran in with a set of bolt cutters. Emily called for them, and the medic brought them over to her.

'Cut this thing off him!' she yelled over Hotch's cries. He angled the cutters, and snipped the ring on either side of his neck and the thing fell off onto the floor. Hotch let out a horrible scream, and collapsed back onto the floor.

For a dreadful moment, Emily thought that it was too late and he was dead. Frantically she searched for a pulse, she found a weak one and she sighed with relief.

'He's alive.' she called to Morgan.

Morgan was pressing down on Reid's chest wound. There was a puddle of frothy blood on his chest, and he wasn't breathing well. When the medics arrived, Morgan sat back on his heels and allowed them to do their work. He had a haemothorax, and he winced as a syringe was stuck into his chest to draw off the blood that was pressing on his lungs. With an oxygen mask on him, he was lifted onto a gurney and taken to the lift along with Hotch. Emily and Morgan were left kneeling on the floor in the bull pen, Morgan covered with Reid's blood up to his elbows.

'What the hell just happened?' he said breathlessly.

-0-0-0-

The repeated activation of the neck device had weakened Hotch's heart. In the ambulance it stopped beating, and Hotch died.

For several minutes he lay dead on the gurney while the team fought to save him. When at last his heart began to beat again, a ragged cheer arose from those in the ambulance with him.

Reid was awake, and trying to get up to see what was happening. He still didn't understand what was happening with Hotch; he still couldn't believe that Hotch had shot him.

'Is he going to be ok?' he said.

'Lay still, Doctor Reid, and concentrate on yourself.'

'He didn't mean to hurt me.' Reid coughed and specks of blood appeared on his lips. The medic gently wiped it away.

'Please lay still, Sir. Mr Hotchner is stable. You can't help him by getting yourself upset; let the doctors do their work.'

Reid lay still trying to come to terms with what had happened. He didn't know about the device, but he had trusted Hotch with his life on so many occasions, and even now he still would. So what had gone wrong? What had happened to Hotch in the two weeks that he'd been missing.

-0-0-0-

TWO DAYS LATER

'Can you tell us your name please?' the medic asked Aaron.

Morgan stood beside Hotch's bed, watching him closely. So far he had remembered nothing, but when asked his name, he became distressed, and couldn't answer, even when they told him his name, he couldn't repeat it.

Hotch looked at the medic, his eyes wide with a dreadful fear.

'Please, don't ask me. I cannot remember.' he said softly. His hands went to his neck, searching for the ring.

'It can't hurt you now.' the medic said. 'It has been removed.'

'Your name is Aaron Hotchner. Do you remember?'

Hotch shook his head. 'I don't know my name. I don't remember.' Hotch was getting agitated. The heart monitor sounded an alarm, and Hotch stopped moving.

'Crash call!' shouted the doctor, and he pulled Hotch's jacket apart to reach his chest with the paddles.. Hotch's body jerked off the table, but still the alarm sounded. Again and again the doctor shouted 'clear' and sent a shock, until at last, the alarm ceased and Hotch's heart began to beat.

He lay still with his eyes closed. The doctor took Morgan aside and spoke to him out of earshot of Aaron.

'Agent Hotchner had undergone some kind of conditioning. He has amnesia, but he is trying to remember everything, except his name. If I ask his name, he...... well you saw what happens.'

'So what do we do?' Morgan asked. 'How do we help him overcome this..... er..... fear?'

'It's more than a fear, Agent Morgan. It's quite possible that remembering his name, saying it, or even acknowledging it, could bring on a fatal attack. We are going to have to move really slowly here. It could mean his life.'

-0-0-0-

Reid was recovering from his injury. He asked if he could sit by Hotch and help him to remember, but Hotch was under guard.

'The man shot you, and is under arrest for attempted murder. He is not allowed visitors, but you cannot possibly want to be with him.'

'I owe the man my life many times over.' Reid insisted. 'Besides, he can't hurt me now, can he?'

Eventually the police relented and allowed Reid to sit with him. Reid took his hand while he slept, and talked to him.

Reid had deep feelings for Aaron, feelings he never expected would be reciprocated, feelings that he barely acknowledged himself, and certainly wouldn't tell Aaron.

But Aaron knew. Lying there in the hospital bed, he felt Reid's hand in his, and he opened his eyes. He tilted his head and looked into his eyes.

'I shot you.' he said, not understanding.

'It's ok, Aaron. You couldn't help it. '

'They killed Dave.' he said, tears pricking his eyes.

'I know. We found him.' Reid said sadly. 'Morgan and Emily have gone after them. There was trace on Dave's clothes that led them to their hide out. I haven't heard but they are close to arresting them. Letting us find Dave's body was their undoing.'

'I don't know who I am. It hurts to remember.'

Reid squeezed Aaron's hand lovingly.

'It will come back, don't be afraid to let the memories come back. We think you have been stripped of your identity so that you would be easy to manipulate. Emily cut the ring off before it could do any more damage.'

'You mean kill me.' Hotch said, his hand going to his neck. 'They never meant me to live through it, did they?'

'It seems not. But we still don't know what their end game was. Sending you to kill me was just a test, we think, as it would achieve nothing.'

'Testing out their brain washing. It should have worked.' Hotch pulled himself up carefully so that he was sitting up in bed. 'I don't know who I am, Reid, I don't know; I can't remember.'

'It will come back, Aaron, as you remember other things.'

'Aaron. It's just a name. It doesn't belong to me. It doesn't feel right.'

Suddenly, Hotch's eyes rolled and he threw himself backwards in the bed, hitting his head on the end of the bed, his hand separating from Reid's. The convulsion tore into his body, and Reid turned in his wheel chair and called desperately for help.

-0-0-0-

The trace on Dave's clothes led the team, or what was left of it, to a disused factory set in the woodland outside Quantico. Morgan and Emily left the SUV down the track, and walked along the overgrown drive way to the main doors. There was a white van parked outside, but it seemed too quiet. Carefully, guns drawn, they passed through the doors into the cool interior. The first room that they encountered was a plain ward like room with a bolted down bed and a small shower room connected.

The next room was sickening. The half carpet half concrete floor was blood stained as was the walls. There was a void in the spatter where Hotch had been standing in between the wall and Dave when he was murdered. A chain hoist hung over the hard floor. There was a pool of blood beneath it. The whole feel of the room – one of torture and pain, made Emily shudder.

'How on earth did Hotch survive this?' she said under her breath. 'Any other man would have died, or lost his fight long before Hotch did.' She felt a rage build up in her that she rarely felt, a rage against these people who hurt Hotch so much that he tried to kill one of his closest friends.

'There's no one here.' Morgan said. 'Let's get this crime scene processed, and put out an APB on the car.'

Emily called the CSU and Morgan alerted the police to watch for the car that they had seen following Hotch before they abducted him. It was over to them now to apprehend the UnSubs who had caused so much damage to their team.

Emily and Morgan returned to the SUV.

'I want to go the hospital to check on Reid and Hotch.' Emily said. Morgan agreed with her, and they took a detour to the hospital instead of driving straight back to the BAU. They ignored the cop who was sitting outside Hotch's room, and watched him and Reid through the window.

'Reid is in love with him, isn't he.' Emily commented, watching how Reid was holding his hand while they slept, his head on Hotch's bed.

Morgan nodded. 'Reid thinks it is a secret.' he said.

Emily smiled at his naivety. It was touching to watch him, who had almost died at the hands of the man by whom he kept vigil. She crossed to the door and went in. Without waking either man, she brushed Hotch's damp hair from his forehead.

Hotch was hot and sweating and he wasn't sleeping peacefully. His body was active in his nightmare, his eyes moving rapidly beneath their lids, small cries escaping his lips. Suddenly his eyes snapped open wide, and he let out a scream to freeze the blood. Reid woke up, Hotch gripping his hand. The scream died away and Hotch seized, blood running from his mouth, nose and ears, bloody tears falling from his eyes. Emily pressed the call button.

Hotch was not meant to survive after the shooting in the bull pen.

Maybe after all that had happened, they were going to lose him after all.


	9. The Loss

**Mind Games  
**Chapter 9  
The Loss

"_**The **__**loss**__** of a **__**friend**__** is like that of a limb; time may heal the anguish of the wound, but the **__**loss**__** cannot be repaired.**__**" – Robert Southey**_

Reid's chair was quickly wheeled out of the way and Hotch was whisked up to the OR. Emily and Morgan watched in dazed horror. Reid was holding his chest, blood showing through the dressings.

'Is he going to die?' Reid asked no one in particular.

Emily crouched in front of him.

'He is very sick, Spencer. The doctor said he is bleeding into his brain. He might not pull out of this.'

Reid stared at her blankly with tears in his eyes. 'I can't lose him, Emily. I never told him how I feel.'

'I think he knows.' she said softly, taking his hand. 'Let us take you back to your ward and we'll wait there for news.'

Silently, they pushed Reid back through the hospital corridors. None of them could come to terms with the horror of seeing Aaron bleed like that. It was too much to take in.

While Morgan helped Reid into bed, Emily went for coffee. Anything to keep her mind occupied. Each time she closed her eyes she saw his face, covered with bood. She wanted to go off and cry somewhere, let out all these pent up feelings, but her professionalism wouldn't allow it. She blinked away the tears that were threatening to overwhelm her, and carried the coffee back to Reid's room.

It was three hours later that they got their news. three hours of pacing and crying and fretting. The doctor who had operated on Hotch stood in front of them with a grave expression.

'Mr Hotchner had a subdural bleed, which was putting pressure on his brain. A reaction to that was the brain swelling.' he said. 'We have relived the pressure, but brain damage is a strong possibility. Please prepare yourselves for the worst.'

'You mean he could still die?' Morgan said, barely able to control the tremor in his voice.

'He is by no means out of the woods yet. Please be aware that he won't be the same man that you used to know.'

The doctor turned and left, leaving the room filled with a shocked silence that could be cut with a knife.

-0-0-0-

Strauss had disbanded the BAU temporarily. The team was three men down, and couldn't run now. Reid's bed had been placed next to Hotch in the hope that his closeness would draw him out of the coma he had sunk into after his operation.

Emily thought he looked like a little boy lying there, eyes closed, with a bandage around his head. Tufts of dark hair stuck through the bandage and out of the top. Gently she stroked it down. She knew how embarrassed he used to get about his hair, the only unruly thing about him. But it made him appear that little bit vulnerable, and that was what made her love him.

Reid's bed was against Hotch's. he held his hand under the covers, and talked to him almost constantly, hoping that some of what he said got through. When he finally opened his eyes, it was a tiny step towards recovery, but to Emily and Morgan, it felt like the world.

Hotch turned his head towards Reid. His free hand moved to his neck where the ring had been. It was as if he believed it was still there. Emily put her hand over his.

'You're safe now, the ring is gone. It can't hurt you any more.' she said.

He turned his eyes towards her, dark eyes that used to be so expressive, now looked devoid of feeling. She felt choked.

'We are here for you. Nothing can hurt you now.' Morgan said.

Hotch didn't say anything. He turned to Reid who was sleeping, and Emily saw to her distress, that Hotch was crying.

-0-0-0-

David's funeral was a heart break. Emily stood in the grey drizzle with her hand in Spencer's. He had come against the advice of the doctors. Morgan stood beside her.

There were many people beside the grave, ones that Dave had brought solace to in their worst times, and friends he had made along the way.

But the greatest sadness of all was that his best friend couldn't be there. Hotch was still in a serious condition at the hospital.

Emily's tears splashed on the little posy she had brought, mixing in with the rain that was falling. Spencer had tears in his eyes, clutching at the single rose that he had brought with him.

Morgan stepped forward and dropped the flower he was carrying onto the coffin, followed by Spencer and Emily. Then the others lined up and dropped a rose into the grave.

Emily couldn't take it any more. She turned and walked away and cried where no one could see her.

-0-0-0-

EPILOGUE _ ONE YEAR LATER

Two men walked into the cafe together. One man, the younger of the two, was tall and slim with long hair tied in a pony tail. He had a mild open face that people liked.

Holding his arm was a dark haired older man. He walked with a pronounced limp, his dark good looks marred by his eyes. Instead of glowing with inner strength and vitality as they once had, they were flat and lifeless. People who didn't know these two often thought he was blind. He wasn't blind though. He just couldn't see.

'Do you want the usual?' the tall man asked.

And as usual there was no answer. The older man didn't speak any more. He sat down where the tall man led him, and waited.

'Strawberry milk shake and a shandy please.' he said to the waitress. She smiled at them. She was used to seeing them in the cafe, and she was terribly fond of the tall man whose name she remembered as Spencer. She didn't know the older man's name. She had asked a couple of times, but she never got an answer.

They called him Tom. That wasn't his real name, but using his real name brought back terrible memories, and Spencer didn't want that to happen to him. So they changed his name to Tom Ellis. His Uncle's name and his Mum's maiden name

The drinks arrived and Spencer slid the milkshake across the table to Tom. He sucked at the straw obediently, but he never showed that he was enjoying it, never showed any emotion. He couldn't smile after what he had been through, and he was all cried out now.

Occasionally a spark of recognition would flash in his dark eyes, and at first Spencer thought that he was getting better, but he had come to see it as a false hope.

They had lost the man that he loved.

The two men were not related. The waitress could understand his loyalty and devotion if they were brothers, or father and son, but Spencer had told her that they were just friends, and the older man needed him. His self sacrificing love moved her. She had offered to sit with him while Spencer had time to himself, but Spencer had declined, saying that nothing gave him greater joy than to care for his friend.

Tom became distressed when Spencer was out of his sight. Spencer didn't want to cause Tom any distress. He had been through enough.

'I love him, you see. And one day he might get better, I want to be there for him until he does.'

Spencer stroked Tom's hair. It was thick and dark, resting on his collar. It was the touch of a lover, but that was something that could never be.

Today was a special day though. It was one year since Tom had come out of hospital, and Emily Morgan and Penelope were going to join them. Spencer sipped his shandy, and as he looked up, the three friends came through the door.

'Hey Spence! Hey Tom!' Emily said. She bent and gave Tom a kiss on the cheek. Morgan ruffled Spencer's hair and patted Tom on the shoulder. Even now, Morgan could only see him as the boss who would soon be back at work. Tom glanced up at the touch.

'How ya doin', Tom?' he said.

'He's doing great.' Spencer said. 'Every day sees a little improvement. Did you see that he reacted to your touch then?'

'Would you like some ice cream?' Penelope asked. There was of course no answer. She got up and ordered five chocolate sundaes. Morgan went with her to the counter.

Penelope was crying.

'Derek, it's awful.' she said. 'I didn't want Tom to see me cry.'

Morgan put his arm round her. 'Princess, he doesn't see anything. You won't upset him.'

'I know.' she said. 'But he will always be Aaron Hotchner to me.'

He hugged her, and helped her carry the ice cream back to the table.

It was a sad and heart rending reunion, and Spencer was glad when it was over. No one knew what to say, and didn't know how to talk to Tom. When they had gone, Spencer took in a shuddering breath and took Tom's hand. Tom looked up at him, a flash of understanding crossing his eyes. It was as if Aaron Hotchner was in there somewhere, and every now and then, struggled to get out. Spencer longed to reach out and bring him back.

'Time to go, Tom.' Spencer said, and the two men left the cafe together.

**THE END**


End file.
